Read The Whole Article, Cooper
by WithMuchHope
Summary: Sonny is interviewed for Tween Weekly and one of the questions is "What is your type of guy?" Seeing it, Chad takes drastic measures to fit these guidelines. Oneshot. Kinda Random. CHANNY! Rated Teen for language and to be safe.


AN: Okay, this is just a quick one shot. I don't think it's my best work, but I loved this idea for the story. So, please R & R and if you can, check out my multi chapter I'm working on, Through A Window. Okay, thankies! Love, Rinny

Read The Whole Article, Cooper

CPOV

I grabbed the latest Tween Weekly from the Prop House table and started to flip through it. I was there for one reason and that reason only. I was there to see Sonny. Wait, no to annoy her. Good. Anyway know I usually only read three things. My script, my reviews, and my checks, but the cover page had a certain Sonny Monroe on the front, so I decided to see why it was she on the front, and not me. It was on page 31 when the magazine halted it's advertisements and started to list the answered questions little Ms Sonshine had answered. The first few where expected, almost routine. The common questions from "What's it like in Hollywood" to "What's your favorite color?"

Of course, hers was yellow and she loved it in Hollywood, but I already knew that. I skimmed the questions, knowing most of the answers already. I wasn't a stalker; they were just extremely simple and obvious questions that any person could answer. Like "What's your favorite song" or "What's your favorite movie?" Anyone knew these answers. Blondie walked into the Prop House with the same magazine I had. She hadn't seen me yet, so she began to talk to herself.

"Sonny's favorite movie is Camp Hip Hop? And her favorite color is yellow?" she began. "Oh, who cares? Where's the article about me, when there's something about me, who would read an article about Sonny?" Wow, she was mean even when Sonny was gone.

"I am," I spoke up, causing her to jump and let out a girly yell. I snickered darkly.

"What are you doing, waiting for Sonny?" she asked, evil lurking in her tone. I smirked.

"What are you doing, talking to yourself?" I retorted. She gave me a glare.

"Touché," she mumbled, walking to the couch where I was sitting to reach over and grab her nail filer resting on the table.

"So, did you read the whole article?" she asked, planning something. I shook my head, opening the magazine again.

"Well, then you better check question twelve. You'd be interested!" she told me with a laugh. I rolled my eyes and looked to the article.

Question 12: What is your type of guy?

I grimaced at Blondie as she left the room, chuckling. When I was sure she was gone, I quickly turned to the magazine for answers. Not that I cared or anything. Yeah, right. I began to read, more and more surprised with each word.

"Well, I like a variety of guys, but I mean, everyone has a type. Oh! My true type of guy is one with lots of tattoos, piercings, dyed hair, and the all out bad boy!" I stopped there. The question continued, but I threw down the magazine. I mean, I was the ultimate bad boy already, but I didn't have dyed hair, tattoos, or even a piercing! I began to leave the Prop House in a hurry when Sonny walked in, causing us to crash into each other.

"Sorry!" I said quickly, dashing out of the room to leave a confused Sonny.

SPOV

It and been hours since I had seen Chad. I wondered a few things. One, why was he here? Two, what was wrong with his voice? Three, why was he such a jerk? Well, more than usual. I picked up a Tween Weekly magazine that lay on the table and turned to my interview. I read through it, making sure they didn't mess it up. I smirked at question twelve, remembering the interviewer's expression when I started the joke.

At least they included the part where I actually told them I was kidding. If they hadn't, people might have actually believed me! That would have been funny. I heard footsteps coming from the hall and turned my head. A figure stepped into the room and plopped down on the couch, putting his feet on the table. I stood up, holding back laughter.

"Chad?" I said, in utter shock. He was barely recognizable. The first thing was his hair was dyed to a sleek, fresh- looking, pitch-black hair.

Second, his pants hung low with chains dangling and juggling as he walked. Third, his ears that pecked over his newly black hair were covered in metal. You could barely see the skin on them as they were covered in shiny studs and rings that also added the jingling when he took each step. Lastly, I saw his arm. His shirt was ripped at the sleeves, so tattoos were visible, covering his arms, wrists, shoulders, and hands. I didn't get enough time to look over each tattoo that was on his hand alone because he interrupted my counting of the ink drawings with simple words.

"What's up?" he said, feet still on the table. Okay, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I burst out in laughter and when I could finally open my eyes and breathe, he gave me a glare.

"What?" I laughed a little more.

"What. Are. You. Wearing?" I asked, slowly so I wouldn't have to repeat it.

"I'm wearing clothes. From Hot Topic. Why? You like?"

"Is this a prank or something? New role in a movie?" I asked, making sure I wasn't being Punk'd. He stayed serious.

"No, Sonny. I don't get it. You don't like it?" he asked, looking almost hurt. I was a bit confused.

"I never said I didn't like it. I just don't get it!" I said, sitting back on the couch, still convinced it was some prank.

"I'm a total bad boy! Look at this tattoo! It says so!" he said, showing me one ink mark reading "CDC is a total badass." I held in my laughter, not wanting to upset him again. Then I grew serious.

"Are those washable?"

"Well, I wanted to know your opinion, you know before I get the permanent ones," he said, taking a gulp.

"And why would you do that?" I asked. He picked up the Tween Weekly, flipped to a certain page and pointed to question twelve.

"I'm a total bad ass!" he proclaimed. Then it struck me. Question twelve. The joke. Being a bad boy. Tattoos, dyed hair, piercings, and being my type. Why would he do this all to be my type?

"Okay, first, did you read the whole article?" I asked. He shook his head. I took the magazine and pointed to a few very important sentences that he read out loud.

"Ha, I'm just kidding. My type of guy is sweet, not always thinking of himself, and just a normal guy. Not really a guy with all that metal attached to his eyes and ink planted on his skin." He turned to me.

"It was a joke?" he asked softly, feeling kind of stupid.

"Glad I told you. You would have gotten like a million tattoos. But why would you do it in the first place?" I asked him. Our eye contact broke, so he could stare at his black and white checkered Vans.

"I dunno." He spoke the words as he did when asked if he really thought I had nice hair.

"I think you do, Chad."

"Well, if your thinking it's because I wanted to be your type of guy, you're way off," he said, bringing his eyes back to mine.

"Am I? Am I, really?" I asked. He bit his lip.

"Maybe not," he whispered, so I could just barely hear him. I smiled.

"Well, it was sweet of you to do all this for me. But you really don't need to change," I told him with a smile.

"Wait, you called me sweet. That's your type of guy!"

CPOV

Yes! Even though the whole badass look didn't work, I caught her. I ended up to be her type of guy, in a different way then according to plan in the first place. But who cares? I was her type. Well, obviously, what girl wasn't the Chad Dylan Cooper type?

"Maybe. Did I say that?" she said, not looking at me. I nodded with a smirk.

"Yup, it's in writing, too. So you wanna go out for fro- yo?" I asked her.

"Like a date?" she asked me, looking into my eyes. I nodded. She smiled.

"Maybe another time," she said with a smile, standing up as if to leave. I stood up too.

"Oh, you're busy?" I assumed. Not like they actually worked around here.

"Nah." Was she really turning me down? My heart cracked a little.

"Well, not looking that. I don't date bad boys, after what happened with Conroy, sorry." I smirked, my heart healed. I laughed along with her for a minute.

"In a few hours then? When I look like I normally do?"

"Yeah, sounds great. Can't wait," she said with a smile.

"Me either. It won't take too long, I promise," I swore. We were about to go our separate ways, when she turned to face me.

"Just one question." I nodded for her to continue. "That hair dye isn't permanent, right, Chad?" she asked me, completely serious. I could tell she hadn't liked it.

"No, course not," I told her nonchalantly. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank god. Like you better as a blonde. Well, see you soon," she said with a wave and full-hearted smile as she walked to her dressing room. I waited until she was completely gone, then reached for my phone, dialing numbers and holding it to my ear.

"Hello, Andy's Hair Cutters? Have fast does it take for your 'Long-lasting Black Hair Dye' to dry?"


End file.
